The Red Sox ruined my poem!

Never mind that the Boston Red Sox won the World Series (surely a sign of the impending Apocalypse), and forever embarrassed the Yankees by overcoming a seemingly impossible 0-3 deficit in a best-of-seven game series. (Hockey fans know how rare a feat this is.) This doesn’t really bother me.

In fact, I am delighted for several friends, once long-suffering Sox fans, who can now die in peace. (New York Ranger fans know from long-suffering.)

What really bugs the shit out of me is that my poem “The Baby in the Green Suit,” has been rendered obsolete by the triumph of the Red Sox:

THE BABY IN THE GREEN SUIT

Rides a Hells Angels pram
With airbrushed flames
Licking chrome bumpers

Lazy dim sum waitress
Opens her trap in suck-toothed
Convenient no-speaky-English mode

The well-prepared mind
Weighs all caliber of options
Before igniting that final killing spree

Noble civilizations
Rise and fall in their time
And still the Red Sox suck

[So much for Ars longa, vita brevis!]